


Tactical Misrepresentation

by Braincoins



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Craigslist ad gone wrong, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Marijuana, Rule of Funny is in effect, commission, light shallura - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-03
Updated: 2019-01-03
Packaged: 2019-10-03 16:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17287283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Braincoins/pseuds/Braincoins
Summary: Shiro told his new job that he's married and has a kid.It's "Bring Your Kid to Work" day.Desperate times...





	Tactical Misrepresentation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [darkavenue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkavenue/gifts).



> Congrats to darkavenue for winning my Shallura Pillowfort raffle! Here's your requested fic commission! I hope it's okay ^_^;
> 
> Nyma is suuuuuuuuuper OOC here. *hides behind the Rule of Funny shield* Sorry, Nyma fans!   
> ========

            He never should have said he had a kid in the first place. Keith had convinced him to do it, for his own mental health – which was a weird thought when phrased like that. But if he had a kid, then he could leave work early (“Gotta pick my little Einstein up from soccer practice!”), he could take the occasional day off (“Sorry, but he’s throwing up, and my wife’s got that presentation at _her_ job, so I have to stay home with him!”), that sort of thing. He could have some downtime, which Keith, as his best friend, was always after him about.

            Kids were great excuses, basically, and Shiro was half-convinced he might not have gotten the job here in the first place if he hadn’t claimed to be a married father: damn near everyone else here had families. It seemed to be part of the corporate culture, and they’d considered him a good fit for it.

            He never should have lied in the first place, but he _had_. And his blood had run cold when Mr. Iverson had announced “Bring Your Kids To Work Day.” Technically, it was optional. But Shiro had the idea that his boss would be Very Disappointed if anyone opted out.

            You did _not_ want to disappoint Mr. Iverson.

            He was resolved to come up with an excuse, but he woke up that night in a cold sweat and realized that just wasn’t going to fly. He needed a kid. Keith was too old to pass for a young son and couldn’t have plausibly been called _anyone’s_ “little Einstein.” In a panic, Shiro placed a Craiglist ad for a son – and possibly a mom to go along with them? He posted it and tried to get back to sleep and, in the morning, he’d forgotten all about it.

            Until he got a reply.

            And so now here he was, the dutiful family man, bringing his wife and son… daughter? SON, to the office. “You’re sure this is going to work?”

            “Dude, people think I’m a kid – and a _boy_ – all the time!” She’d introduced herself by saying, “Call me Pidge,” and had convinced him she could pull it off. She’d pulled in a friend of a friend to be “Maggie” – his hard-working lawyer wife – and was willing to help out in the future for ongoing fees. He’d stopped short of agreeing to keep Pidge on retainer.

            “You don’t look like the picture on my desk,” he protested as they neared the office.

            “Admit you just used a stock photo,” Pidge said. “Because I hate getting pictures taken – which is true, by the way. And I’ll prove it by finding convenient ways to avoid getting my face in any pictures I know are being taken, and that will just underscore that fact. People will laugh a little and you’ll even have an excuse to take the phony picture down.”

            “I gotta admit, you’re good at lying,” he said. He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Everything okay back there, uh, honey?”

            “Maggie” – her real name was Nyma – snorted and brushed some powdered sugar off her suit. “It’s good, we got this. Thanks for the donuts.”

            Honestly, he was more worried about her than about Pidge at this point. “Okay, so remember, you’re in soccer and I call you my little Einstein and…”

            “I just learned about TESLA!” Pidge piped up in a child’s voice. “He was really weird and super cool but I still like Einstein better it’s okay.”

            Shiro blinked. “Okay, that was a damn good impersonation.”

            “Told you,” she said in her normal voice. “We got this; stop worrying.”

            “Sorry, I’ve just… never done anything like this before, and…”

            “It’s going to be _fine_.”

 

**Two Hours Later…**

            Everything was very much _not_ fine.

            Pidge had wandered off at the first opportunity – granted, much like real kids did – and had now attached herself to the one guy in the office who flirted (badly) with everything with tits. Shiro might have worried about that except that Lance seemed to have completely bought into Pidge as being a little boy and he was, amazingly, _really good_ with kids.

            Which was great, because in between Pidge’s first wandering off and Lance finding her, she’d been teaching the other kids how to build something called a “cockroach bomb.”

            And then there was his supposed wife. She’d started out playing it cool, but then she’d started telling everyone to call her Nyma saying that it was a nickname for Maggie. She’d asked everyone what they were working on and if they partied; when they either said no or talked about kids’ birthday parties, she gave up and moved on to the next victim. At this point, she, too, had wandered off, and Shiro had _no_ idea where she’d gone. He wasn’t getting any work done, everyone else’s kids were running around screaming like banshees, and now someone was asking him something.

            “I’m sorry, what?” he asked, turning around.

            It was Allura from marketing. Oh god, of course it was her. She was everything his imagined wife should have been and more and while she was not, at current, the #1 reason he regretted starting this charade, she was definitely in the top three. Because, as a married man, he couldn’t ask her out.

            “I said it’s chaos in here today!” she repeated, having to raise her voice to be heard over the children.

            “Be glad you don’t have kids,” he groaned.

            She frowned. “You were always so proud of your little Einstein.”

            “I said ‘kids’ – plural. There’s a reason we only have one.”

            She laughed. “Good point.” She had a beautiful laugh.

            And then, suddenly, there was a loud, “SNUGGY-HONEY-SUGAR-BUNNY!” and he was tackled from the side and given a wet, smacking kiss on the cheek.

            _Well, I guess I found “my wife.” Or she found me_.

            “There you are!” she was still gushing, arms locked around him.

            “This is the farthest I’ve moved from my desk in two hours,” he said, adding belatedly, “honey.”

            There were remora who weren’t this clingy. “I’ve been so worried!”

            “Uh… I guess I should… get back to work,” Allura said.

            “Yeah, uh… good luck with that,” he replied, struggling to break free of Nyma’s surprisingly-strong grip. He could do it but he didn’t want it to be too obvious. _Married men don’t typically want to break free of their wives, right? I mean, **happily** married men don’t._

            Allura smiled and walked off, and he sighed and closed his eyes and prayed to whatever god might hear him that this would all be over soon. But then he smelled something. He opened his eyes again and looked at “Maggie.” “Have you been smoking pot?”

            She laughed. “Nah. I mean, half a joint barely counts.” She finally let go of him.

            “You’ve been smoking pot at my office?” he hissed in alarm.

            “I was giving a free sample to a potential buyer,” she informed him.

            “You’re _selling_ pot at my office?!”

            “Mitchy’s cool, don’t worry; he won’t tell the boss.”

            “Mitchy?” He groaned. “I think that _is_ my boss.”

            “Oh, well, even better.” She laughed again.

            “You were smoking pot with my boss.” He groaned.

            “Oh, hey, do you have a snack stash in your desk? Most people do, right?” She let go and headed over there.

            “No, I do-…” There was an insistent tugging on his pants. He looked down to see Pidge there.

            “Daddy? I wanna tell you something!” She – He, this was his _son_ supposedly – beckoned him down.

            “What is it, kiddo?” He kneeled down.

            “Who was the babe?” Pidge asked quietly.

            “The babe?”

            “That you were flirting with before Nyma showed up.”

            “That was Allura from marketing,” he told her, “and I was not flirting with her.”

            “You should; she’s totally into you.”

            “I wish.”

            “She is!”

            “Now, now,” he said in normal voice and volume, “lunch isn’t for another hour. You’ll survive.”

            “I think Mommy’s hungry though.” Pidge pointed to Nyma rifling through his desk drawers.

            “Oh god,” he replied weakly, running over. “Honey, I told you I don’t have a snack stash. Let’s… let’s take an early lunch, okay? I think our little Einstein has worked up an appetite with all this… learning.”

            “McDonald’s!” Pidge yelled.

            And that set off a chorus of kids who now all, immediately, wanted McDonald’s. Shiro glanced around at his increasingly angry co-workers.

            “Wait, who’s going to McDonald’s?” Iverson asked as he walked in. “I wanna come.”

            “Oh my god,” Shiro groaned.

            “Hey, cool, I’M BUYIN’!” Nyma declared.

            “Can you afford lunch for the entire office and their kids?” he asked her. _How much weed did Iverson buy?!_

            “Me? Nah, ‘course not,” she said, as she fished out a leather billfold. “But I swiped this one guy’s wallet after he hit on me.”

            “Wait, what?!”

            “That one,” she said, pointing out Lance. “You should have heard the line he gave me!” She started laughing.

            “Give that back to him!”

            “Awww. NEVERMIND, EVERYONE!”

            There was a loud series of groans, followed by Lance saying, “Hey, where’s my wallet?”

            He wanted to get out of here badly. He also wasn’t sure he could leave Nyma and Pidge unsupervised. This was a nightmare and he didn’t know what to do and…

            “I’ll order us pizza!” Iverson declared. This was greeted with more cheers.

            _Okay, food problem solved._

“Hey.” Nyma threw an arm around his waist. “Let’s ditch. I know a good place for drinks.”

            “It’s not even 11 AM and _give Lance his wallet back!_ ”

            “Fine. Why’d I marry such a boring husband?” She threw it in Lance’s general direction and Shiro winced as it bounced off his head.

            “HEY! WHO THREW THAT?! AND HOW’D YOU GET MY WALLET IN THE FIRST PLACE?!”

            Nyma snickered.

            Shiro writhed out of her grasp and nearly tripped over Pidge, who was leading an expedition of kids on their hands and knees. “A lot of times the power outlets for offices like these are in the floor, so you can unplug someone’s computer and they won’t even see you…”

            He picked her up. “But you _shouldn’t_ unplug people’s computers because they’ll be very upset with you,” he told the kids.

            “Put me down!” his “son” yelled, squirming. The kids shrieked and scattered, laughing.

            “You’re a terrible influence on these kids.”

            She grinned. “Someone’s gotta teach ‘em how to have fun. I mean, I’d teach ‘em hacking skills, but that seems a bit advanced for my age.”

            “I will give you an extra $20 to behave.”

            “$50.”

            “$25.”

            “$45.”

            “$30.”

            “$40,” she countered.

            “$40 and you get Nyma to… shit, where’d she go?”

            “Oooooooooooooooooohhhh, Daddy said a bad word!”

            He put Pidge down again, casting his eyes about for Nyma. He caught sight of her flirting with Hunk, a happily married father of twins (who were too young yet to be brought to an office, thank goodness), who was turning red and also clearly trying to find a polite way to flee.

            Shiro ran to save Hunk from his “wife,” who greeted his arrival with, “Duuude, threesome!”

            “I’m married!” Hunk yelped.

            “So am I! Foursome then?”

            Shiro intervened. “I’m sorry, Hunk, _please_ ignore her.”

            “I’ve been trying!” he protested.

            Shiro grabbed hold of Nyma’s arms and steered her away from Hunk. “Please stop flirting with my co-workers. Or trying to sell my boss weed.”

            She snorted. “‘Try’ nothing; _succeeded_.”

            “…trying to sell my boss any _more_ weed.”

            “Hey, I’m just being me.”

            “See, that’s exactly it!” He spun her around. “You’re not supposed to be _you,_ you’re supposed to be my wife.”

            She looped her arms around her neck. “How ‘bout a kiss then?”

            “I don’t think I could handle the second-hand high.” He pulled her arms off of him.

            She laughed. “I’ma find our kid. She knows how to have fun.”

            “He.”

            “Right, that’s what I said.”

            “Try to keep he-… _him_ out of trouble? Please?”

            “I’m ordering from lots of pizza places,” Iverson announced. “’Cause apparently they don’t like it if you put in a big order out of nowhere and it takes them FOREVER to get here. So, like, two pizzas from this place, two from that one…”

            Shiro groaned and retreated to his desk. He folded his arms on his desk and dropped his head to rest on them. _If I close my eyes, maybe this will all just be a bad dream._

            He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Shiro? Are you alright?” Allura asked.

            “No,” he groaned, staying where he was. “My life is a disaster.”

            “I’m sorry. Is there any way I could help?”

            “Can I have you as my wife instead?”

            “…what was that?”

            He raised his head to find her blushing. “Nothing, sorry. Forget I said it. I’m just…”

            “Grumpy-face!” Pidge giggled.

            Shiro closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then let it out slowly.

            “Do you like my daddy?” Pidge asked, all wide-eyed, child-seeming innocence.

            “Please don’t do this,” he muttered.

            “He’s very nice,” Allura replied with a wide smile.

            “You should kiss him.”

            Shiro shot to his feet. “Okay, you know what? I think we’ve all had enough fun for one day. Come on, let’s find… Mommy and get out of here.”

            “But pizza!”

            “We’ll get pizza as a family. And have a TALK.” He was glaring a warning at her.

“I’ll get Mommy,” Pidge said, darting off quickly.

            “I’m so sorry,” he apologized to Allura. “I’ll, uh… I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

            “Oh, uh… sure.” She looked confused and a little flustered.

            He pulled his jacket on, grabbed his “family” and stormed out.

 

            “That was a disaster.”

            “It wasn’t that bad,” Pidge said. They were back in the car and he was going to drop these two off where he’d picked them up and then maybe see just how early the bars opened.

            “The Hindenburg pales in comparison,” he insisted.

            “That Allura chick liiiiiikes youuuuuuuu,” Pidge cooed.

            “You should totally bang her,” Nyma was saying from the back seat. “I mean, I would if I were into chicks.”

            He sighed roughly in annoyance. “I’m supposed to be married, remember? Of course, at this rate, I’m going to end up fired.”

            “Your boss is having a great day, and so is everyone else,” Pidge told him. “I mean, _pizza_.”

            “And weed!” Nyma laughed.

            He groaned again. “I don’t think I can show my face in the office again. I wonder if they’ll let me work remotely?”

            “If you’re going to carry on like that, my fee to be your kid is going up,” Pidge informed him.

            “Never again,” he said. “I’m never doing this again.”

            “But I can help you land Allura from marketing!”

            “I don’t see how.”

            “Simple: you’re getting divorced! I mean, no one would blame you after today.”

            “I will just tell HR and…”

            “That you lied in your interviews? Yeah, that’ll go over well.”

            “It’s easier – and cheaper! – than putting up with you two again!”

            “You sure about that? I mean, if you get fired, then you’ve lost _all_ your income.”

            “I’ll find another job.”

            “In _this_ economy?”

            He hesitated. _I can’t believe I’m about to say this._ He sighed. “What’d you have in mind?”


End file.
